


i know who i want to take me home

by ephemeraldt



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - TiMER Fusion, F/F, Mutual Pining, y'all ever think about how long 2yeon has known each other and cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeraldt/pseuds/ephemeraldt
Summary: It’s a little too easy. To picture Nayeon with a strip of silver on her wrist, blabbing on about what the numbers mean, all the possibilities. What will happen when she finally meets her soulmate, and what they’ll be like.If the thought keeps Jeongyeon up at night, well, that’s her business and no one else’s.(a TiMER au)





	i know who i want to take me home

**Author's Note:**

> this is an au based off the 2009 film TiMER. basically, a TiMER is a wrist implant that counts down the days until you meet your soulmate. 
> 
> many thanks to @kvetching for beta-ing this, i love you

Once it becomes clear that the TiMERs are not some tech geek fad but actually here to stay, the company decides to hold an official meeting. 

“There’s been some discussion,” one of the important company heads says. Jeongyeon can never remember his name, which is kind of pathetic after god knows how many years, but whatever. “We’re placing a ban on TiMERs until the next contract negotiations. This is to avoid invasive speculation and gossip from the media and the public. We can assure you we have your best interests in mind.”

Jeongyeon feels an unexpected rush of relief in her chest. The whole concept of a TiMER freaks her out a little. First of all, she doesn’t like the advertisements, with all the wide-eyed men and women staring at each other on public transportation as words like DESTINY and ETERNITY flash on the screen. Also, the idea that love and soulmates can be boiled down to an algorithm is a tad sketch. She’s not one to deny science, but she’s also not about to rush out and have a permanent surgical procedure done in the hopes of finding The One, contract or no contract. 

Looking around at her bandmates, Jeongyeon sees mixed reactions, which is about what she’s expecting. Sana looks devastated and Chaeyoung looks disappointed. Tzuyu’s face is full of relief, reminding Jeongyeon how much she has in common with the maknae. Momo’s hand is raised to ask a question like they’re in grade school, and Dahyun is checked out completely, busy showing Mina something on her phone. Jihyo is nodding to herself, because Jihyo is a logical person and this is a logical move on everyone’s part. 

Finally, Jeongyeon checks Nayeon’s reaction. To her surprise, Nayeon is already looking back, eyes focused and head tilted, like she’s trying to see through Jeongyeon’s skull. Jeongyeon sticks her tongue out. Nayeon turns her head away. 

“The ban is a good thing, right?” Jeongyeon asks a few weeks later. Nayeon’s eyes are trained on a teenaged couple walking ahead of them. The couple is holding hands, the strips of silver on each of their wrists flashing in the sun. 

“For now,” Nayeon says. 

They arrived in Kyushu late last night, but the CF shoot isn’t scheduled until the afternoon. The majority of the members decided to spend their free morning catching up on sleep in the hotel. Jeongyeon would have joined them if Nayeon hadn’t jumped on her before she could fall asleep, insisting that they go explore the streets of Fukuoka. 

It’s nice to walk around, just the two of them, with no cameras or managers in sight. Jeongyeon keeps expecting people to recognize them and the bubble to burst. But it hasn’t happened. It reminds Jeongyeon of when her and Nayeon were trainees, sneaking out in search of a taste of rebellion. They’re older now, and they know how to appreciate a place for what it is, rather than what they can use it to justify. The same thing goes for each other’s company, although Jeongyeon has a feeling they’ll never admit it. 

“Do you think you’ll get one?” Jeongyeon asks. “Once the contract changes.” It’s the question she’s been avoiding since that first meeting, and the words get stuck in her throat a little. If she and Nayeon were holding hands like the couple in front of them, Nayeon would probably pull back and ask why Jeongyeon’s palm is so sweaty. Jeongyeon hates how nervous this topic makes her, and also that she can’t stop thinking about it. 

“Yeah,” Nayeon says. “Yeah, I think I will.”

Jeongyeon continues on, like the air hasn’t just been kicked all the way out of her. After seven years as an idol, she’s gotten really good at grinning and bearing it, or least the bearing it part. “Really? You believe all that crap?”

“It’s not crap!” Nayeon exclaims. “It’s science! Why? Do you not want one?”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

Nayeon stops in her tracks. “Yoo Jeongyeon!” 

Jeongyeon hooks her arm around Nayeon’s elbow, pulling her aside so they don’t get trampled by incoming foot traffic. “That’s my name, yes.”

Nayeon places her hands on her hips, sticking her lower lip out. As if that trick’s ever worked on Jeongyeon. “Why don’t you want a TiMER? And don’t tell me you don’t believe in love or soulmates, because you’re the biggest sap I know.”

“I am not.”

“You are too! Don’t be stubborn!”  
  
“I’m being stubborn?” Jeongyeon asks, raising her voice slightly. “You just stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk!”

“That’s not what being stubborn means. Read a book.” Nayeon’s voice is humorously forceful, but it softens when she asks her next question. “Why don’t you want one?”

Nayeon has a mask pulled under her chin. She’s not wearing makeup, and her eyes are bright and clear. Jeongyeon wants to scream, a little, because Fukuoka is beautiful but so is Nayeon and she would have been better off just staying at the hotel. 

It’s also just...way too early in the morning to be having this conversation. If Jeongyeon had to pick a perfect time of day to do this, she’d probably pick nighttime, so she wouldn’t have to look Nayeon in the face. Although _never_ still wins out in the end, always. 

“They creep me out,” Jeongyeon says. “Also, they could be a scam. Who knows.”

“Let’s say they’re not a scam,” Nayeon says. “Let’s say we have 100% evidence that TiMERs are not a scam. Then would you get one?”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jeongyeon glances across the street, where an older couple is seated at a bus stop. The woman’s head rests on the man’s shoulders as they watch the cars and bicycles go by. They remind Jeongyeon of her parents, and her heart aches. “You shouldn’t need a piece of metal to tell you that you’re meant for someone. You should just know, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, Jeongyeon,” Nayeon says, eyes huge in a way that lets Jeongyeon know she’s about to be mocked. “I was right. You are a sap.”

“Shut up.”

“Never.”

Jeongyeon checks her watch. They still have a few hours until the CF filming, but they both need to eat something, and hair and makeup will be irritated if they show up even a minute late. “We should start heading back to the hotel.”

Nayeon slips her arm through Jeongyeon’s as they start making their way down the sidewalk again. It’s irritating, how well they fit together. Always has been. 

(She’s pretty sure she knows how she feels. That doesn’t mean she knows what to do about it. She’s been shoving things down for as long as she can remember, and she’s developed some damn good skills over the years. There’s a whole pile of things she doesn’t touch. Not now, while they’re both so busy. Not now, when she still has time to convince herself otherwise.)

“So I agree with you,” Nayeon says. “About not needing a TiMER to know you’re meant for someone.”

“Yeah?”

“But I also think it can be good to have confirmation. Something tangible and like, objective. You know?”

“Sure,” Jeongyeon says, but Nayeon continues to talk anyway. 

“Imagine if Romeo and Juliet had TiMERs. Their families wouldn’t have been able to say shit. And then nobody would have died.” 

“You have a point,” Jeongyeon replies. “But Romeo and Juliet aren’t real, Nayeon.”

“True,” Nayeon says. “And I guess nobody would want to read that story.”

Jeongyeon thinks about TiMERS a lot. It’s hard not to, when the damn things are everywhere. Almost all of her non-idol friends have gotten the procedure, and the numbers counting down on their wrists are all they seem to talk about. They tell Jeongyeon the surgery doesn’t hurt. Not that it matters. 

It really settles in when Seungyeon comes home one day with a TiMER, completely out of the blue. The face of hers is blank, meaning that her soulmate doesn’t have one yet. Seungyeon is clearly disappointed, and even though Jeongyeon has been vocally anti-TiMER, she reassures Seungyeon that the countdown will start soon. 

“But what if it doesn’t?” Seungyeon asks, voice small. Jeongyeon hates seeing her big sister like this, but she’s not a kid anymore, and being able to be there for Seungyeon is part of growing up.

“It will,” Jeongyeon says. “And if it doesn’t, you’ll still find someone. You’ll still be happy.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

It’s a little too easy. To picture Nayeon with a strip of silver on her wrist, blabbing on about what the numbers mean, all the possibilities. What will happen when she finally meets her soulmate, and what they’ll be like. 

If the thought keeps Jeongyeon up at night, well, that’s her business and no one else’s.

_One Year Later_

Twice goes on hiatus. It feels like the right thing to do. They all have solo projects they’ve been working on, and while they love touring and performing together, the timing of the contract renewal is just too convenient. They’ll reunite. Probably. 

They cry anyway. When Tzuyu starts to tear up, Jeongyeon pulls her close. Over Tzuyu’s shoulder, she sees Nayeon, sitting with Jihyo on the couch. They glance over at her, and she tears her gaze away. 

“Check me out,” Momo says, over video chat. “I have a soulmate!” 

Momo waves her new TiMER back and forth in front of the camera, so fast that Jeongyeon can barely make it out. She’d recognize that telltale silver flash anywhere at this point, though. It’s not even surprising anymore. 

“Congrats,” Jeongyeon replies. “So, how long until you meet them?”

Momo sighs. “Two years,” she says. “But that’s good, you know? I can live my best single life.”

“Hear hear.”

“I have a soulmate,” Momo repeats, and giggles like a kid. Jeongyeon loves her so, so much. “They’re out there, somewhere. I just have to wait.”

“I’m excited for you,” Jeongyeon says, honestly. “That happened fast though, huh? It’s been what, a month? Not that I’m complaining. I’m happy if you’re happy, Momoring.”

“It hasn’t been that fast,” Momo says, pouting, because she knows that’s the key to making Jeongyeon feel bad. “Nayeon got hers before I did.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jeongyeon stutters, before she stops breathing altogether. 

“She got hers a week ago, I think,” Momo says. “She was really excited, too.”

Nayeon has a TiMER.

Siren noises seem to ring in Jeongyeon's head, as if all of the fears and anxieties she thought she’d kept neatly packaged inside were threatening to burst open at the seams. She has to stay calm, for Momo’s sake. But judging by the look on Momo’s face, it’s too late.

“You didn’t know,” Momo says. “Jeong, I’m sorry.” 

“No,” Jeongyeon says, even though she knows her voice sounds unusually high. “No, it’s okay.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”  
  
“It is,” Jeongyeon says firmly. “It is.” If she repeats it enough times, it might become true. It’s never worked in the past, but hey. First time for everything.

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell you,” Momo says. “You guys tell each other everything.”

They haven’t told each other _everything_ in a long time. Or at least Jeongyeon hasn’t. But she doesn’t want to bring Momo into that now. Momo is happy, and she doesn’t need that spoiled with all of Jeongyeon’s unresolved Nayeon shit. “I’m sure it just slipped her mind.”

“Probably,” Momo says, glancing at something behind the camera. Judging from the barre in the background, she’s in her studio.

“Time to go back to practice?” Jeongyeon guesses, and Momo nods, standing up to move. They chat idly and schedule a time to call again next week. After they say their goodbyes, Jeongyeon waits, because she never hangs up first. It’s one of her things, and her friends respect it. 

“It’s blank,” Momo says, before ending the call. “Nayeon’s TiMER. It’s blank.”

Jeongyeon is left staring at her phone screen, feeling slightly guilty about the relief that ripples through her. 

On Tuesday afternoon, Jeongyeon finds the TiMER store in Gangnam empty. The place is decorated to look like the trendiest spacecraft in the world, every surface silver chrome or white marble. For a service supposed to be all about love, there’s nothing comfortable or even welcoming about it. 

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter asks. “Are you interested in scheduling a consultation?”

Jeongyeon eyes the brochures stacked in front of her. DESTINY. ETERNITY. SOULMATE. It's all a little intense for her tastes. She doesn’t even know why she decided to come in. One of the other employees is eyeing her like he recognizes her, which, great. She can’t wait for the inevitable slow day at Dispatch when the headline will break: _Twice’s JEONGYEON is Looking for Love Via TiMER, Just Like You!_ What is it, 35% of the population now? Jesus.

“Consultations are free,” the woman behind the counter adds. 

“I’m okay,” Jeongyeon says. “Thank you.” 

She leaves, feeling stressed and a little stupid. She’s always been a firm believer that TiMERS are unnecessary, that the right people will come along, with or without a sci-fi surgical fitbit. There’s no reason for that to change just because Nayeon has one now. It shouldn’t mean anything. 

Except it does. Of course it does, because Nayeon is the exception to every single one of Jeongyeon’s rules, it's about time she gets it through her head. 

Jeongyeon can’t put it off for too long. It's not an option. Her and Nayeon have always operated with a push-and-pull. No matter how much time or distance comes between them, they circle back to each other eventually. 

_Dinner friday?,_ the text says.Even though Jeongyeon doesn’t really expect anything more, the lack of details and emoticons makes her nervous. She wonders if Nayeon knows that Jeongyeon knows about the TiMER. Probably. Momo would have told her. 

“Hi, you,” Nayeon says, opening the door to let Jeongyeon into the apartment. “Long time, no see.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re not in a group together anymore."

Nayeon doesn’t ask for Jeongyeon’s coat, just takes it and hangs it on the coat rack. “Don’t remind me. I miss everyone so much. I'm going crazy with all this free time." 

Jeongyeon snorts. “Please. You sent me videos of you in the studio, remember?” Nayeon’s upcoming solo debut is the very definition of an open secret. All of the members, plus most of the country, are thrilled for her. But Nayeon and the company still act like they don't know what a debut even is.

“I shall neither confirm nor deny,” Nayeon says, heading towards the kitchen. Jeongyeon follows. 

“You sent me videos of you _in the studio!”_

“I shall neither confirm nor deny!” Nayeon repeats. She leans over the stove, where some kind of soup is boiling, and rolls up her sleeves to stir. Jeongyeon sees it, then, for the first time: the telltale silver rectangle on her inner wrist. Blank, just like Momo said. 

“So,” Jeongyeon says. “You got a TiMER.” She pulls off the casual voice pretty well, if she does say so herself. 

“I did.” Nayeon says. “You didn’t.”

“You say that like it’s news."

Nayeon turns the stove down and places a lid over the pot of soup. “I know you said you didn’t like them, but I thought you would change your mind once the ban was lifted. I mean, practically everyone has one now. Are you just too committed to being edgy, or what?” 

“I’m not _edgy,”_ Jeongyeon says. “I’m consistent.” 

“Whatever,” Nayeon snaps, and Jeongyeon is taken aback by the sudden hostility in her tone, when they were joking around only a second ago. The two of them bicker as much as they breathe in each other’s presence, but they both know it’s harmless. It’s just one of their things, a product of being so close for so long. Like an old married couple, as Chaeyoung always called them. 

But this is different. Nayeon’s shoulders are stiff and she’s locking her arms together, pointedly avoiding Jeongyeon’s gaze. It feels like they’re on different pages, which is uncomfortable to say the least. Jeongyeon is so used to the opposite. 

“What’s wrong?” She tries to reach out, only Nayeon steps away. “Nayeon. Did something happen?” Nayeon shakes her head. “Can you look at me, at least? Please?”

Finally, Nayeon does, probably because of Jeongyeon's please. Her eyes are full of trepidation and something Jeongyeon can’t identify. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Like what?” Jeongyeon asks. She’s so, so lost. This is not how the direction she pictured the night going, at all. 

“It’s nothing. Let’s have soup.” Nayeon moves to the cabinet, grabbing two bowls. “How much do you want?”

“What I want is for you to tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Well I asked about soup.”

Nayeon is the most stubborn person in the universe, and Jeongyeon can tell when she’s not going to back down. “Give me a lot. It smells amazing.”  
  
Like the flip of a switch, Nayeon’s face transforms into a beaming smile. If there’s anything she loves, it’s a compliment. “Thank you! I was going to do that anyway.” 

They have each other down to a rhythm, by now. 

Sitting at the table in Nayeon’s kitchen, they spend the evening filling each other in on their lives and drifting between topics, talking about everything and nothing. Nayeon drops the secrecy act and confesses that putting an album together alone is a lot less stressful than she thought it would be, but she’s still nervous for promotions to start. Jeongyeon reassures her that she’ll be fine; she always manages to come across as the most confident woman on earth even when she feels like the opposite. Nayeon lets Jeongyeon rant about chord progressions for a good eight minutes, because writing lyrics is one thing but composing is a whole other headache. 

“Whatever you’re working on, I think it could use more saxobeat,” Nayeon says, prompting Jeongyeon to mime throwing her soup across the table. 

Naturally, they talk about the activities of their fellow members. They agree that Dahyun’s killing it at her new hosting gig, no matter what netizens are saying, and that Mina could really have a future in acting. They don’t understand a word of Sana’s feature on some J-pop song, but neither of them can stop listening. Jeongyeon tells Nayeon that the photos from Tzuyu’s most recent modelling gig left her speechless, and Nayeon replies that any other reaction is physically impossible, probably.

“I swear, when that girl gets one of these,” Nayeon gestures to her TiMER, “the whole continent is going to go into mourning.” 

Jeongyeon doesn’t answer, gaze locked on the strip of metal on Nayeon’s left wrist. She’s gotten used to the way the TiMERS look after having to see them everywhere. But Nayeon with a TiMER - Jeongyeon would be surprised if the sight ever becomes less unsettling. It probably has less to do with the TiMER itself, and more to do with the dumb tangle of feelings that never seem to loosen in Jeongyeon’s chest. 

When Nayeon starts speaking again, Jeongyeon realizes she'd been zoning out. 

“I still don’t understand why you won’t get one.” 

There’s no need to clarify what 'one' means. They both know. 

“My reasoning hasn’t really changed since the last time we talked about this,” Jeongyeon says. “They freak me out. And I don’t need a machine telling me who to spend the rest of my life with. That’s the kind of thing I’d like to figure out on my own, thanks.” 

Nayeon tilts her head, staring curiously at Jeongyeon in a way that makes her feel self-conscious. “But don’t you want to _know?”_

“I already do,” Jeongyeon says, before she can think, and then rushes to cover up for her stupid mouth. “I mean, I already would. That’s the idea, at least.”

“Hm.” 

“But for other people, like Momo and Seungyeon...and you...it’s fine. If that’s what you want, I support it. I’m not judging you guys, or anything. I mean, I can understand the appeal. Who doesn’t love a good countdown?” 

_Who doesn’t love a good countdown._ She’s an idiot. 

Nayeon taps the surface of her TiMER with her right index finger. “Not everyone gets a countdown, though.”

“Right,” Jeongyeon says. Clears her throat. 

“I didn’t really consider that, when I got this thing,” Nayeon says, lifting her head to look at Jeongyeon again. “Maybe I should have.”

The air between them feels suddenly thick, and if Jeongyeon hadn’t seen Nayeon do it, she would have thought Nayeon forgot to turn the stove off. It feels like they’ve gotten a little too close to something unspeakable. An edge that leaves Jeongyeon panicking if she thinks about it long, or hard, or at all. 

“You should think about getting one,” Nayeon says, reaching out to brush a hand against Jeongyeon’s inner wrist. Jeongyeon shudders. She hopes Nayeon doesn’t see. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. But just...think about it.” 

Jeongyeon doesn’t trust her mouth right now, with Nayeon looking at her like this, soft and nervous and a little desperate. She’s familiar with most Nayeon expressions, but this isn’t one of them, and it makes her want to run home but also stay here forever at the same time. 

“Will you think about it?”

She doesn’t trust herself and she doesn't mean it when she nods. 

Jeongyeon is so deep in her thoughts when she arrives home that she doesn’t notice the man leaving her house until she’s already crashing into him. Before she can stammer out an apology, he’s pushing past her, walking like he wants to hit something.

Inside, Seungyeon is sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the TV even though it’s turned on mute. Her face is calm. 

“I’m sorry about Ho-jin. Turns out he’s kind of a jerk,” Seungyeon says. 

“I believe you,” Jeongyeon says. “But, um, I’ve also never seen that man before in my life.”

“He did set design for one of my dramas, and we stayed in touch,” Seungyeon says as Jeongyeon goes to sit beside her. “Went out a few times. It wasn’t serious.”

“So he was upset you ended things?” 

Seungyeon shakes her head. “He’s the one who ended things, actually. My TiMER countdown started.” Her face broke out into a smile. “I’m meeting him in seven months, Jeongie. My soulmate.” 

“Oh my god,” Jeongyeon says, throwing her arms around her sister’s shoulders. This is what Seungyeon has been wanting more than anything, and the blank face on her TiMER had been a thorn in the entire family’s side. 

“I’m so happy,” Seungyeon sighs, and something is a little off about it, but Jeongyeon doesn’t dwell on it right now. “Seven months. That’s feels really soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon says as her thoughts begin to drift. “Did Ho-jin have a blank TiMER, too?”

“No, he didn’t have a TiMER.” Seungyeon answers. “That was part of it. Because if he didn’t have one, there was a chance that he could be my soulmate. But now that my TiMER has a countdown, he knows he isn’t.”

“Right,” Jeongyeon’s head is suddenly racing, and her breathing feels tight. Giving Seungyeon one last hug, she excuses herself, heading up to her bedroom. 

She loves sharing a house with Seungyeon, even though they’re adults who could easily afford their own places. It feels right. Comfortable. Seungyeon is always there for Jeongyeon, no matter what. Ride or die. 

Except right now, Jeongyeon wants to be alone. 

She collapses face-down on her bed, her dinner with Nayeon playing over in her head for what feels like the hundredth time. She can't seem to move past the look on Nayeon’s face, at the moment it seemed like she knew something, like she was finally acknowledging the strange tension that always seemed to exist between them. 

Jeongyeon wants to cling to it - the thought that maybe Nayeon isn’t as oblivious as she seems. But that territory is a little too uncharted to be safe. 

There’s a whole pile of things she doesn’t touch. 

Except every time she closes her eyes, she sees the blank face of Nayeon’s TiMER. It’s stupid, because it probably doesn’t mean anything, anyway. Just like Seungyeon’s blank TiMER didn’t end up meaning anything for Ho-jin. Jeongyeon barely learned his name before he was out of Seungyeon’s life. And if he made Seungyeon happy, well, that doesn’t matter. Because there's someone else out there who's meant to do it better. Because he isn't the one. 

She winds up calling Jihyo later that week. 

“It’s about time,” Jihyo says in lieu of a greeting. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon replies, wincing even though Jihyo can’t see her over the phone. “I’ve been busy.”

It’s not a lie. She spends almost every day in the studio, messing around with equipment and attempting to mix synthesizers in a way that doesn’t make her want to like, die. Jeongyeon is grateful to finally be taking a real crack at composing, but damn if it doesn’t suck all the energy out of her. And if, by chance, she does have any energy left over, one mention of Nayeon or TiMERs will zap it before Jeongyeon can say the words _death spiral._

Still, she knows she’s been a bad friend. Jihyo deserves better. “You deserve better,” she says. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jihyo replies. “I know how you get. Besides, I’ve been busy too. We all have.” 

Jeongyeon nods along as Jihyo breaks into a rant about her upcoming mini-album, how she wants to write all the lyrics but the company is skeptical. There are no doubt in Jeongyeon’s mind that Jihyo will get everyone on board in the end. She doesn’t know anyone more persistent or capable of seeing the bigger picture. 

“Anyway,” Jihyo continues, “I need to clear my head. What do you say to a hike?”  
  
Jeongyeon groans. “You know my rule with physical activity. Only if I’m contractually obligated!” 

But her friendship with Jihyo is more binding than any contract, which is how she finds herself in Bukhansan two hours later, wearing leggings and running shoes because she doesn’t own any of Jihyo’s fancy gear. 

She can’t resist complaining anyway. “It’s so _hot_.”

“Oh, are we just stating the obvious now?” Jihyo asks, pausing to take a sip from her reusable water bottle. “Can it be my turn?”

“Fine.”

“Something’s bothering you,” Jihyo says. “And please don’t try to deny it. I know you too well.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t know what to say, so she just keeps moving up the rocky trail, one foot in front of the other. Her calves are killing her. She can’t believe Jihyo actually enjoys this. 

“Your silence is deafening, Yoo Jeongyeon,” Jihyo calls, running up ahead and stepping in front of her, effectively cutting her off. 

Jeongyeon curses as she almost loses her balance. Jihyo catches Jeongyeon by the arm to steady her, and Jeongyeon sees that Jihyo’s wrist is just as bare as ever. No TiMER. Jeongyeon is a little surprised, but she doesn’t know why. Maybe because Jihyo always forced them to watch romantic dramas when they were young, sighing over all the brooding heroes. A TiMER is pretty much on-brand. 

Then again, Jihyo isn’t the same person she was as a teenager. Being in the public eye changes a person, for better or for worse. All of the members grew up together, but Jihyo's confident glow is a thing of its own. 

“Let me guess, you’re staring at my lack of a TiMER,” Jihyo says with a slight eye roll. “Don’t even get me started. My mother is driving me batshit insane. Apparently, being an award-winning solo artist and also a member of the top-selling girl group of all time isn’t good enough if there’s no man to share it with. If I find one more brochure in my mailbox, I’m moving.” 

“So I take it you’re not planning on getting one?” Jeongyeon asks. 

Jihyo starts moving back up the trail, beckoning Jeongyeon to follow. “No, I am. Just not right now. I have a career to focus on, and I’m still in my mid-twenties. There’s time for that kind of stuff.”

“That sounds very reasonable. I’m proud of you.”

“Plus Chris Hemsworth isn’t single yet.”

Jeongyeon elbows Jihyo lightly in the ribs. “He’s married!”

“For now,” Jihyo laughs. Jeongyeon laughs too, except it turns into a wheeze as the path grows steeper. Jihyo is familiar enough with Bukhansan to know which trails are pretty much empty at any given time of day. Unfortunately for Jeongyeon, today’s hike is just as strenuous as it is private. Being a celebrity sucks sometimes. 

“But you’re right,” Jeongyeon says. “It doesn’t make sense to rush. I mean, maybe for someone like Seungyeon, but she’s thirty. Nayeon went out and got hers, like, the day after the contract was up.” Her breath is huffing between words, but she can’t seem to stop talking. The topic was a dangerous slope, as slippery as the path was steep. “What’s with that anyway? Does she really need a relationship that badly? If you think about it, it’s kind of desperate. Right?”

Jeongyeon can feel sweat starting to gather on the back of her neck, and she can’t tell if it’s because of the hike or because she went and brought up Nayeon. Her head feels light and her vision is slightly blurry, although not so blurry that she can’t see Jihyo is looking at her with eyebrows raised in concern. 

“I think,” Jihyo begins, “that maybe we should sit down for a minute.”

“I’m fine,” Jeongyeon says. Pants. “I’m fine.”

“Look at your breathing! You’re not fine.” Jihyo reaches out for Jeongyeon’s arm, but Jeongyeon shrugs her hand away. Stumbling backwards, Jeongyeon feels her back hit a tree. She leans against it, knees buckling slightly. 

“Well, it was your idea to go on this stupid hike in the first place!” Her heartbeat is spurting like hot oil in her chest, and her breath is so, so heavy. “Why would you even bring me here? You know how weak I am.” 

“Jeongyeonnie,” Jihyo says, taking a tentative step forward. “You’re not weak.” 

“Yes, I am,” Jeongyeon huffs, and she sort of feels like she’s going to cry. God damn it. 

“Enough,” Jihyo says firmly, as she walks forward to take a seat at the base of the same tree Jeongyeon is leaning against. She reaches for Jeongyeon’s hand, and tugs. “Come on. Sit.” 

Wordlessly Jeongyeon sinks down, so her and Jihyo are both sitting against the tree trunk. Jihyo hands Jeongyeon her water bottle. Jeongyeon takes a heavy sip. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon says, once she’s caught her breath a little. “I ruined the hike.”

“No you didn’t,” Jihyo replies. Jeongyeon takes a second to look around, admiring the way the sunlight through the leaves overhead dapples spots of gold across a row of rocks. It actually is pretty out here, and the peace is nice. Nayeon would probably like it, although she would hate the actual hiking part even more than Jeongyeon. 

“Jeongyeon, I know you’re not the biggest fan of talking about your feelings, but clearly something is getting to you, because you’re not acting like yourself.”

Jeongyeon nudges a pebble with her foot. She doesn’t really know what Jihyo means by not acting like herself. If anything, being swept up in Nayeon is just a part of who she is, has been since she was too young to know better. 

She’s just usually better at hiding it, is all. 

“I’m going to ask you a yes or no question,” Jihyo continues. “You just have to reply yes or no. Okay?” 

“Okay.”

“Is it Nayeon?”

Jeongyeon is suddenly very, very grateful that her and Jihyo are sitting side by side, so she doesn’t have to look Jihyo in the face. It’s the only reason she’s able to croak out an answer. “Maybe.”

“That’s not a yes or a no!”

“It’s not that simple,” Jeongyeon says, because _is it Nayeon_ is a ridiculous question to begin with. Is what Nayeon? Jeongyeon’s problem? Sure, but that’s nothing new. 

She expects Jihyo to grow frustrated, but instead, Jihyo scoots closer, lets Jeongyeon rest her head on her shoulder like they’ve done so many times, throughout red-eye flights and late nights sweating to death in the practice room.

“I’m going to choose my words carefully,” Jihyo says softly, “Even though I think we both know what we’re talking about.” 

Jeongyeon swallows. “Okay.”

“You and Nayeon are my best friends. I love you two more than anything, and I know you both love me. And you love each other. But it’s different, with you and her. Isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon whispers. 

“When we first debuted, I would always look at Nayeon as soon as performances were over,” Jihyo says. “She was always stressed about sounding stable or hitting a certain note, so I wanted to reassure her she did a good job. But I could never catch her eye, because she was always looking at you. She’s always looking at you.”

Jeongyeon can feel her whole body start to flush. Something like hope is rising inside her and normally she would squash it down, remind herself not to read too much into things. But this isn’t her, it’s _Jihyo._ She trusts Jihyo. 

“I know it isn’t simple, with you and her,” Jihyo says softly. “But it can be.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t know what to say. She feels scared and nervous and above all, tired. “I’m so tired, Jisoo.”  
  
Jihyo’s lips quirk at Jeongyeon’s use of her old name. “Then you should probably talk to her.”

The thing is, Jeongyeon knows it’s true. But that doesn’t make it any easier to digest. “It’s crazy that we’re talking about this.” 

“Believe me, it’s overdue,” Jihyo snorts. “Besides, we’re on hiatus. There’s nothing wrong with getting a little crazy.” 

Jeongyeon laughs in response, even though every muscle in her body is aching. 

When Jeongyeon calls Nayeon the next day, she doesn’t need to scroll through her contacts. She has the number memorized. “Is this a good time?”

“So formal.” Nayeon remarks on the other end. “Good morning to you too, Yoo Jeongyeon. I don’t have to be at the studio for an hour, so you’re free to bore me.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t know why she’s nervous. She might have feelings for Nayeon, but that shouldn’t mean forgetting how to act _._ “Do you want to get dinner tomorrow night?” 

“Sure,” Nayeon answers. “Your place or mine?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could go out somewhere,” Jeongyeon says, squeezing her eyes shut. God, why was this so hard. “I could, like, make a reservation. Or something. If you want.”

The other end of the line is silent for a few painful seconds, and Jeongyeon is beginning to worry they got disconnected when Nayeon’s voice comes through. “Um, yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Cool,” Jeongyeon says, feeling a wash of relief. “I’ll text you the address when I make the reservation and we can, uh, meet there. Is that okay?” 

“It’s a date,” Nayeon says quickly as she hangs up. It’s cliché but Jeongyeon still feels like she’s flying. 

They’re doing this. They aren’t talking about it, but they’re doing it. 

It’s a little ridiculous, to get ready to meet Nayeon in the same way Jeongyeon would get ready for any date. She feels self-conscious, changing into a leather skirt just because she knows it makes her legs look good. 

_She was always looking at you,_ Jihyo said. Christ. 

So when Jeongyeon arrives at the restaurant before Nayeon, the first thing she does is order a drink. Something harder than normal, because holy shit this is _happening,_ and she’s worried that her sober self will fall into old routines out of habit. Like avoiding what she needs to say until it's too late. 

Sitting at the table, waiting for both her drink and Nayeon, Jeongyeon wonders if maybe she should have offered to pick Nayeon up. This is a date, after all. Nayeon said it was. 

But all that formality doesn’t fit right on them, because this is _Nayeon._ Nayeon who cried on her shoulder at least once a week when they were trainees. Nayeon who was there with Jeongyeon as she underwent every bad haircut imaginable, and still called her pretty. Nayeon who always chews with her mouth open until someone reminds her not to. Who likes to craft insults, but never ones that hurt. Who always looks at Jeongyeon the same way, no matter how many cameras or eyes are on them. Nayeon who-

“Hi.”

Nayeon who’s here, shyly approaching the table in a way that’s so different from her normal confident power-trot that Jeongyeon is taken aback, a little. Jeongyeon stands up, and then immediately feels stupid and sits back down. Nayeon opens her mouth, makes the face she does when she’s going to make a joke. But nothing comes out. It’s different, apparently, when they’re at a nice restaurant, all dressed up for each other. When the tension between them is louder than it's ever been. 

When there’s no going back from tonight, and they both know it. 

_It’s worth it,_ Jeongyeon reminds herself as Nayeon sits down. _It has to be._

“You look nice,” Nayeon says. “This place is nice, too. I heard the food’s nice. I’m saying the word nice too much, aren’t I? I’m going to keep talking until you interrupt me.”

“Okay,” Jeongyeon interrupts, taking a moment to scan the restaurant in search of that drink she ordered. It’s been ten minutes, at least. “What do you want me to say?” 

“You could start by telling me how beautiful I look tonight,” Nayeon says. “Don’t I look pretty in white?”

Nayeon _does_ , objectively, but the thought of telling her makes Jeongyeon’s stomach turn. “You’re alright.” 

Nayeon picks at the corner of her napkin, which is folded to look like a flower or a swan or something. Silence stretches out between them, and Jeongyeon counts the seconds in her head, wondering when, exactly, a situation becomes so awkward that it’s past the point of no return. 

“Your drink, ma’am,” the waiter arrives, finally, placing Jeongyeon’s drink on the table. Jeongyeon doesn’t think twice before taking a heavy sip. When she puts the glass back down, Nayeon is staring at her. 

“What?”

“You didn’t order me anything?”

“Was I supposed to?” Jeongyeon asks, before realizing how that sounds. Shit. 

Nayeon crosses her arms. “Jeongyeon, is this a date or not?” 

“Um,” Jeongyeon says. “Yes? I mean, you said it was, right?”

“I know _I_ said it was, but what do _you_ think? I want to know what you think. And god, Jeongyeon, I want to know what you _want._ So can you just tell me what you want, for once?” Nayeon glances around, aware that her voice had raised a few decibels above the acceptable noise level for a Michelin starred restaurant. Her next word is quieter. “Please?”

Jeongyeon takes a deep breath. Then, she takes another sip of her drink. A longer one. 

It’s now or never. 

“I want you,” Jeongyeon says, and her voice cracks when she says it, but it’s too late for do-overs. “I have feelings for you, I mean. I’ve had feelings for you for, um, a while.” 

Nayeon doesn’t answer immediately, probably because she loves to see Jeongyeon suffer, except her face is a different story: open and soft and a little frozen, like she’s been caught off guard. Which, yeah. They’ve been dancing around this for over a decade. It’s not going to be an easy revelation for either of them to handle, no matter where they come out on the other side. 

Jeongyeon finishes her drink. 

“Did you pay for that?” Nayeon asks, gesturing to the empty glass. It’s not what Jeongyeon expects her to say right after hearing Jeongyeon confess feelings, but Nayeon has always been unpredictable. 

“No, we haven’t even ordered food yet.”

“Well, it can’t be more than 10,000 won, right?”

“I guess…” Jeongyeon says, but Nayeon is already fishing through her purse. She produces a few crumpled notes and tosses them on the tabletop, as if this were the kimbap joint near her apartment and not one of the best restaurants in Seoul. 

“We’re leaving,” Nayeon says. 

“But we haven’t eaten anything.”

“Don’t care.” Nayeon grabs Jeongyeon by the wrist and starts to pull her towards the exit with all the speed and determination of a bulldozer. Jeongyeon is very, very grateful she went with the flats over the heels.

They spill out of the restaurant and into the street. Nayeon doesn’t look back once as she makes her way down the sidewalk, even after bumping into more than one pedestrian.

Jeongyeon knows she’s bound to freak out eventually, but right now she feels calm, lost in the glow of the street lamps and the alcohol and the movement of the moment. 

She lets Nayeon pull her into a public park. They walk until the sounds of the city streets at night have faded into the distance. Normally, Jeongyeon would be hesitant about hanging out in a park after dark - they weren’t exactly known for being the safest places. But she doesn’t say anything. The look in Nayeon’s eyes is too bright. Blinding. Jeongyeon might as well be a moth stunned into silence. 

“Do you think anyone can see us?” Nayeon asks breathlessly. 

“No,” Jeongyeon answers. She glances around, just in case. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Perfect,” Nayeon says. And then she kisses Jeongyeon. Hard.

Jeongyeon barely registers the feeling - Nayeon’s lips against hers, Nayeon’s hands on the back of her neck - before she’s kissing back. It’s like a dam bursting open in her head, all of the feelings and frustrations and _want_ she’s stored up over the years rushing through her as she finally, finally lets herself feel, and touch, and kiss. 

(It’s irritating, how well they fit together. Always has been.)

She’s not sure which one of them loses balance first, but they don’t stop kissing as they tumble onto the grass. Their foreheads bump together, but Jeongyeon barely notices. Because Nayeon’s hair smells like apples when she’s climbing onto Jeongyeon’s lap and holyfuck how did they manage to wait so _long._

Nayeon pulls away from Jeongyeon’s mouth, and it’s a brief second of agony before she starts kissing Jeongyeon’s neck _._ Jeongyeon’s whole body spasms and she reaches out to grab Nayeon’s hand because she needs something stable to hold onto, like, now.

Her fingers brush against a cool metal surface. Nayeon’s TiMER. Funny, she’d forgotten it was there. 

The haze in Jeongyeon’s head seems to vanish all of a sudden, and she becomes painfully aware of their surroundings: the cool, spiky surface of the grass underneath them. The faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air. The sound of someone yelling in the distance, who knows what for. Darkness, and lots of it. 

Nayeon is still straddling her lap, still kissing her, and it’s amazing except she can’t breathe all of a sudden - she can gasp for air, but she can’t _breathe._

So she pulls away. Nayeon audibly whines, and Jeongyeon wishes she could pocket the sound somehow, so she can listen to it whenever she’s feeling even the slightest bit down on herself. There’s a voice in her head telling her she’s an idiot for interrupting the moment. Her own worst enemy, really. Sometimes she can’t help it. 

“Jeong?” Nayeon asks, sitting back on her heels. “Is something wrong?”

And Jeongyeon bursts out laughing. She collapses onto the grass, and she can feel the concern radiating off of Nayeon as she rolls over, but it’s too late to stop. Because - who the hell does she think she is, anyway. 

“It’s a good thing your countdown didn’t start when you were on the way to dinner, huh?” 

Nayeon’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. It’s really cute and all too much. “What?”

“Because,” Jeongyeon says, and she’s still laughing, except she’s not quite sure what’s funny. “Then this wouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t.”

She watches as Nayeon’s face shifts from bewilderment to anger and then, finally, to hurt. “Why are you doing this?”

“Me?” Jeongyeon asks, sitting up. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who went and got one of those things, and now we can’t...we can’t.”

“We can’t? We just _did_ ,” Nayeon says, and yep, she’s back to angry. Not the kind of playful-pretend angry, like when Jeongyeon makes fun of her teeth, but real angry. The rare, red-faced kind that Jeongyeon has seen directed at smug dieticians and pervy production assistants, but hardly ever at her. 

“It was a mistake,” Jeongyeon mumbles. Deep down, she knows she’s lying, but she can’t deal with that right now. She can’t deal with any of this. 

“How can you say that?” Nayeon exclaims, rising to her feet. “You just told me you had feelings for me. Do you know how long I’ve waited for you?”

“No. Maybe if there was, I don’t know, some sort of official countdown, then I would know,” Jeongyeon says, also standing up to face Nayeon. “But that’s not for me. I’m not the one you’re really waiting for.”

“You don’t know that!” Nayeon shouts. Someone can probably hear them, somewhere. “You could, but you’re too fucking stubborn! No, wait, I take that back.” She takes a step closer to Jeongyeon. “You’re too fucking scared.”

They’re standing in the same position they were when they kissed for the first time, except all of the light in Jeongyeon’s chest has been replaced with something sharp and aching. She doesn’t know how they managed to turn everything sour so fast. A large, bitter part of her wants to blame Nayeon for everything, but it’s not that simple. They’re them, and when it’s them things always boil down to somewhere in between. 

The thing is, Nayeon is right. Jeongyeon is scared. But she’s not the only one.

On the drive home, the car passes a familiar storefront in Gangnam. The TiMER logo is lit up like a beacon. Jeongyeon closes her eyes. 

When Jeongyeon wakes up the next morning, Chaeyoung is in her living room. 

“Shouldn’t you be in London?” Jeongyeon asks, eyes still groggy from sleep. “Also, since when do you have a key?”

“Seungyeon let me in,” Chaeyoung answers calmly, taking a sip from - _wait, she figured out the french press?_ “I gave her the rundown of the situation. Don’t worry, I spared the mushier details. I’m not going to out you. Wait, are you even out? I just realized I don’t know.” 

“I’m out to Seungyeon,” Jeongyeon says. “But, uh, what did you tell her, exactly?”

“I told her you and Nayeon are fighting, and also that you’re both idiots,” Chaeyoung replies. “Will you sit down? I’m feeling majorly dwarfed, here.”

Jeongyeon takes a seat on the couch next to Chaeyoung, and then steals a sip of her coffee, because this is her house _,_ damn it. “How do you even know that Nayeon and I are fighting?”

“Nayeon told me,” Chaeyoung says, in a tone that sounds like it should have a ‘duh’ attached. “She also told me not to talk to you. But I’m a grown-up now, so I don’t have to do what she says anymore.”

“Not that you ever did in the first place.” 

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung smirks. “You’re right.”

Jeongyeon rests her legs on the coffee table. Her head is still reeling from the rollercoaster that was last night, ricocheting from the highest high to the lowest low in a matter of milliseconds. It's like there's a broken slideshow projector in the back of her head, switching back and forth between Nayeon kissing her and Nayeon yelling at her. Nayeon smiling at her and Nayeon cursing at her. If mental whiplash is a thing, she has it. 

“You never answered my question,” Jeongyeon says. “Why aren’t you in London?” 

“Because my gig got pushed back a week and my parents are fighting.” 

Jeongyeon groans. “We’re not your parents.”

Chaeyoung ignores her. “So, how are you going to fix this?”  
  
“Why do I have to be the one to fix it? I didn’t do anything. She went out and got a TiMER because clearly she wants her perfect scientific soulmate or whatever. And if she thinks I’m going to be some kind of placeholder until that person comes along, then she’s even more selfish than I thought.” 

“Wow,” Chaeyoung says flatly. “You are an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look.” Chaeyoung grabs both of Jeongyeon’s hands and stares her straight in the eyes. “I’ve known you two since I was practically an infant, and that’s long enough to know that you’re not her fucking placeholder. You could never be her fucking placeholder. You’re her goddamn sure thing.”

“Language,” Jeongyeon scolds. (So maybe Chaeyoung has a point about the ‘parents’ thing. Whatever.) “Also, I love you, and I think you’re smart, but you can’t know that, Chaeng. There’s no way to know that.”

“There is, actually,” Chaeyoung says, tapping Jeongyeon lightly on the wrist. Jeongyeon pulls away.

“No.”

“But isn’t it worth the risk? Isn’t she?” Chaeyoung asks, and her confidence is still there, but her head is tilted in a way that reminds Jeongyeon of the girl’s younger self. Jeongyeon knows Chaeyoung looks up to her, and also that Chaeyoung is a hopeless romantic. That despite her cool exterior, Chaeyoung still believes everything will work out in the end, that the right people will find each other and be happy. It hurts Jeongyeon’s heart, a little, to know that she’s letting her down. 

But as long as Nayeon has the blank TiMER, the closer Jeongyeon gets to her, the closer she is to losing her. “I don’t know, Chaeng.” 

“What you two have...I’ve never seen anything like it,” Chaeyoung says softly. “And I’m wrong about a lot, but I’m pretty sure I’m right about this. And I think you know I am, too.”

Jeongyeon can’t help it, then. Her lungs constrict and the tears are coming before she can look away. Chaeyoung pulls Jeongyeon’s head onto her lap, stroking Jeongyeon’s hair as Jeongyeon sobs. She’s not used to feeling so much, all at once. 

It’s like she’s been running a marathon for years, with full knowledge that there’s a cliff’s edge waiting at the finish line. She should have slowed down a while ago, once her body started to hurt and she got old enough to know what’s good for her. But in the back of her mind, she knows the jump is a foregone conclusion, that there’s no avoiding it. Even though she can never be sure what’s waiting for her at the bottom. 

“Everything will be okay,” Chaeyoung murmurs. Jeongyeon wants so badly to believe her. 

She holds her breath, and thinks about the free fall. 

One of Jeongyeon’s biggest issues with Nayeon, besides the obvious, is that she can’t ever keep her mouth shut. Cordiality is a foreign concept to her, like stage fright and braces. 

“So everyone knows?” Jeongyeon asks Momo over video call. 

Momo nods with sympathy. “For the record, nobody believed her when she called you an, uh, inconsiderate, cold-hearted harpy.” 

“That’s nice, I guess.”

“We’re all rooting for you two to finally get your act together, you know.”

“Thanks,” Jeongyeon sighs, before changing the subject. 

Jihyo also reaches out, over text: _I’m taking this means you told her. I’m proud of you._

Jeongyeon knows she doesn’t deserve the praise, but she takes it to heart, anyway. Right now, she needs all the confidence she can get. 

She comes home from the studio, listening to the most recent version of her latest mix through her headphones. There’s something off about the beats per measure, but she can’t quite place it. 

This time, though, it’s a man who crashes into _her._ Not the other way around. In a stroke of what feels like deja vu, Jeongyeon recognizes Ho-jin. The same Ho-jin who had left her house in a huff the day Seungyeon’s TiMER started counting down.

Now, he sheepishly smiles at her, apologizing quickly before ducking out the door. Jeongyeon feels like she’s hallucinating. 

“Did he come here again to bother you?” she asks Seungyeon, removing her headphones as she enters their kitchen. Seungyeon is washing a frying pan in the sink. 

“No,” Seungyeon says, without even looking up from her task. “I invited him here. I wanted to talk.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like how things ended with him. We were good friends, for a while. I care about him as a person.”

Seungyeon swallows, keeps scrubbing the pan, and Jeongyeon knows her sister far too well. 

“You had feelings for him,” Jeongyeon states. “Real ones. Didn’t you?”

After a few seconds of silence, Seungyeon nods. “I understand why he ended things. But that doesn’t mean it was easy.” Her voice shakes, and Jeongyeon moves to put her arms around her sister’s shoulder. “I think some part of me hoped it would be him, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon says. Of course she does, more than she knows anything. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Was it worth it?”

Seungyeon drops the pan, and it hits the bottom of the sink with a clatter. She turns to face Jeongyeon, and a familiar big-sister glint of wisdom sparkles in her eyes. “Oh, Jeongie. Love is always worth it, every time.” 

“Okay,” Jeongyeon says, as Seungyeon hugs her tight. “Okay.”

It still takes her two weeks to work up the nerve to call Nayeon. 

“What do you want?” Nayeon snaps before Jeongyeon can stutter out a ‘hello.’ Time doesn't make her heart grow any fonder, it seems. Jeongyeon is grateful Nayeon can’t see her right now, because every part of her is shaking with nerves. 

“Can I come over?” Jeongyeon asks.

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, like something falling to the floor. It’s a few more seconds before Nayeon answers. “Fine. But don’t waste my time.”

Jeongyeon wishes she could promise that, wishes she could promise Nayeon a lot of things. But for now she just says, “I’ll try not to.”

Nayeon opens the door wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that Jeongyeon is pretty sure used to be hers. She loses her breath, for a second. Jeongyeon hates it when this happens, when she’s hit with the full force of Nayeon’s presence out of nowhere. 

“Well? Are you going to come in, or are you going to just stand there and stare at me?”

Jeongyeon shakes her head and steps through the entrance. She’s fully prepared to break out into a speech, but Nayeon interrupts her thoughts before she can start to form the words.

“So I’ve done a lot of thinking, and here’s what I’ve come up with,” Nayeon says. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. Which sucks, because you’re really irritating and, no offense, kind of thick-skulled recently. But you’re also my best friend, and I can’t stand not having you in my life. And if this stupid piece of metal on my wrist means that you don’t want me in that way anymore, I’ll learn to deal with it. I don’t know how, but I will. Except I don’t think you actually have anything to worry about, because I’m almost positive you’re my soulmate. Also we kiss really well. That should be taken into consideration.”

Nayeon speaks quickly and loudly, but Jeongyeon can tell she’s nervous because she’s wringing her hands together and avoiding Jeongyeon’s eyes. Jeongyeon wants to comfort her, but she also feels pinned in place by the sheer force of Nayeon’s words. 

There’s a feeling in her body, something exhilarating. Something like the free fall. “You’re pretty sure you’re in love with me?” 

“Yes, you dork,” Nayeon answers, rolling her eyes. “I want to be with you. This doesn’t have to be so hard, you know.”

“I love you too,” Jeongyeon says quickly, reaching for Nayeon’s right hand. 

“Oh.” Nayeon says. “I mean, I knew that already.”

Her voice is confident, but Jeongyeon can feel her pulse. She knows Nayeon’s heart is racing just as much as hers is. 

“But you were right,” Jeongyeon says. She doesn’t know why she sounds so hoarse, all of a sudden. “I’m scared. I’m really fucking scared.”

“Why?” Nayeon asks, placing a hand on Jeongyeon’s cheek. Jeongyeon can’t help it; she leans into the touch. Then, she glances at Nayeon’s TiMER.

“Because what if it’s not me.”

Nayeon shakes her head rapidly. “No, no, no. Don’t say that.” 

“If I have you, and it’s not me,” Jeongyeon begins, despite Nayeon’s protests. “I won’t...I don’t know how I’ll deal with that.” Finally getting Nayeon, and then losing her. It’s the thought that keeps her up at night. _Love is always worth it,_ Seungyeon had said. But Jeongyeon has only ever been in love with one person. She doesn’t know how to love anyone else, not really. And she sure as hell doesn’t know how to let that love go. 

“You won’t have to,” Nayeon insists. “I know it’s you. Since I was nineteen, I’ve known it’s you.” 

“If it’s not me,” Jeongyeon repeats, despite Nayeon shaking her head, “and it’s someone else-”

“I’d leave them,” Nayeon says quickly. “I’d tear this thing out of my wrist, I promise.” The statement is so dramatic and so _Nayeon_ that it hurts. 

“You say that now, but I couldn’t keep you away from your soulmate. I couldn’t do that to you, unnie.”

Nayeon leans forward, kissing Jeongyeon on the cheek. Tenderness wells up inside her, despite everything. “Do you remember Fukuoka?”

“Of course.”

“You told me you shouldn’t need a piece of metal to know when you’re meant for someone. Jeongyeon, I know that you’re meant for me. You don’t have to believe me, but you can trust me. I promise.”

“Then why did you get one?” Jeongyeon asks, smoothing her thumb over the TiMER’s blank face. 

Nayeon leans in, planting a ghost of a kiss on Jeongyeon’s lips. “Because I’m impulsive and curious and you waited like, twelve years to make a move. But guess what? You love me anyway. So who’s the real loser?”

“It’s still you,” Jeongyeon says, and she suddenly feels inexplicably, incredibly happy. Happier than she’s felt in months. “But you’re right, I love you anyway.”

“Sweet,” Nayeon says with a smile, and kisses Jeongyeon again. Firmer than the kiss from a second ago, but softer than back in the park. Jeongyeon is completely sober this time, but she feels light and floaty anyway. 

If this is what her life is like now, she doesn’t know how she ever got so lucky.

“So we’re doing this?” Jeongyeon asks, as Nayeon pulls her onto the couch.

“Making out? I’m trying, but you keep _talking.”_

“No, I mean,” Jeongyeon begins, but Nayeon’s hand is on her upper thigh, and her brain short-circuits for a second. “You and me. We’re doing this.”

Nayeon looks at her, face open and smiley. Jeongyeon wants to pinch her cheeks. None of this feels real, not yet. But at the same time, nothing has ever felt so right. 

“It’s about time, don’t you think?” Nayeon asks. Jeongyeon barely has time to nod before they’re kissing again, because it’s something they can do now, finally. They make out lazily, like it’s something they do all the time. Like they haven’t been waiting for this for over a decade. Like this happens every day, like they have all the time in the world. The seconds counting up, not down. 

Jeongyeon doesn’t know if this light, untouchable feeling between them will last. She doesn’t know for sure if Nayeon is her soulmate. There’s no algorithm to cushion them if they fall. 

But they’re kind of falling, already. The cliff was always there, and the leap was bound to happen. 

Maybe one day, Jeongyeon will get a TiMER for real. In this vision, she and Nayeon are still together, because her future doesn’t exist without Nayeon in it. Maybe they’ll do it for kicks, or to settle a bet or something. Or maybe they won’t. 

Maybe love is enough. 

“I’m so happy,” Nayeon whispers, breaking away from Jeongyeon’s lips. “You make me so happy.”  
  
“You make me so happy, too,” Jeongyeon replies. She lets herself lean into the feeling, lets herself lean into Nayeon.

Their present moment is what matters. Their past is a love story. And their future isn’t worth worrying about right now, when they’ve travelled so far to get here. 

Besides, they’ll figure it out. It’s them. 

They’re inevitable.

_Three, two, one, zero._

**Author's Note:**

> some songs that inspired this fic:  
> -You're Not the One by Sky Ferreira  
> -Everything I Own by The Front Bottoms  
> and, of course  
> -Closing Time by Semisonic
> 
> (if you're reading this, don't forget to send loving thoughts to mina today. xoxo)


End file.
